#tired hero

[roses-ink-dipped-pen]

Hero would have never thought that embracing their archenemy would be anywhere close to therapeutic, but here they were. Villain had finally found their weakness, and despite being the villain they couldn’t bring themselves to use this as an opportunity for their evil deeds, not now at least.

Hero closed their eyes, letting Villain scoop them up with strong arms. Villain supported their back with one arm, the other held their bottom as they hoisted the Hero against their chest. The warlord wasn’t used to being the first to initiate a hug, or the whole concept of hugs in general, but they did their best to make sure Hero felt at ease.

“Is this too much?” Villain looked down at their rival with so much care and concern, it scared Hero for a moment. Hero shook their head, squeezing Villain’s torso as a sign to encourage them to deepen the hug.

Villain smiled in contentment as they held their hero, swaying left to right while humming a small tune. Hero listened in, enjoying it despite the unfamiliar notes.

“I have a feeling you’ve been needing this for quite some time.” Villain purred in a singsong voice. They couldn’t help but press a kiss to their rival’s temple, their thumb traced small circles onto their cheek. Hero smiled brightly, a singular tear trailed down their face. Villain wiped it away, pinching their cheek as they began their tread down the empty sidewalk.

“Let’s get you home, it’s late.” Hero happily obliged to the Villain’s request to stay for the night on the way there.

[sunnynwanda]

Trouble of Mind: Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: failed brainwashing, mental exhaustion, tormented Villain (and Hero)

When the door creaks open in front of them, Hero is still deep in thought, frantically searching for whatever to say, which Villain seems to understand because they nod, gesturing for them to come inside. Without a word, they walk down the corridor, leading Hero to their bedroom.

It's dark inside, heavy curtains blocking any remnants of light outside - another thing physically painful to them in the current state. It takes a few moments for Hero's vision to adjust, but once it does, they notice a couch across from Villain's bed, already prepared for them. "How did you..?"

"Know you'd come?" Villain finishes for them, rubbing a hand over their eyebrows with a sympathetic sigh. "I know how it feels when it's your first time dealing with this."

"Is it bad again?" Hero asks carefully. There's another question lingering on the tip of their tongue; Villain can sense it. "It's because of me, isn't it? My interference?" Hero finally gathers the courage, their heart and mind racing as if in a competition as they wait for Villain's answer.

Villain nods shortly, turning away to search for the essential oils, to keep their hands busy and mind occupied. They don't blame Hero, not really. In fact, they are grateful that Hero hadn't read their mind in all their years of battling. That's more respect for their privacy than they received in the dungeons of the ministry.

"I'm sorry," Hero mutters, their voice dripping with guilt. They fail to come up with words after everything they have witnessed in Villain's twisted mind. All Hero knows is that they are relieved a large part of it has been suppressed by Villain's defense mechanisms.

Villain sighs, fully aware of their nemesis' regret over the situation. They allow their gaze to linger on Hero's troubled expression before speaking. "I don't blame you."

"You should," Hero states simply, leaning back against the back of the sofa. Their head drops against the headrest, eyes falling shut. No wonder Villain prefers to attack at night, they think. Who would have thought, light could be a vicious type of torture?

For several moments, they remain silent, heavy breathing being the only noise in the room. Villain moves to sit on their bed, contemplating whether they want to know the answer to the question that has formed in their ragged mind.

"How deep did you get?" They finally whisper, not wanting to startle Hero. They wonder if their phrasing made sense and are about to clarify when Hero's faint voice cuts the air.

"Unconscious."

Villain almost smiles, leaning back against the mattress and allowing their eyes to fall shut. "I know. How deep?"

"All of it," Hero lifts their head, glancing in the general direction of the bed. They can barely make out Villain's shape on it.

"Tell me," Villain interrupts their thoughts again. When Hero hums in apparent confusion, they clarify. "Tell me what you saw."

Hero almost chokes on the air, sitting upright despite the heavy pounding in their temples. "W-why?" They stutter out, already regretting their visit.

"I want to know what's in there." It's a simple sentence, but it claws at Villain's throat, unwilling to be uttered. They force the words out, turning their head to look at Hero's form on their sofa.

Hero's voice is guarded when they finally respond. "You had repressed it for a reason, Villain."

"Hero, you, of all people, know it's going to haunt me forever unless I deal with it," Villain counters, earning a quiet grunt from their nemesis.

"You can't deal with what's in there," they mutter, rubbing a hand over their face. A part of them knows Villain is right - the same one that is spurring them to try and undo some of the damage, to give Villain a chance of a clear mind. But there is another one. One that is scared of making it worse, both for Villain and themself. One that is terrified of even the thought of going through the darkness behind Villain's gaze again. One that cannot bear the pain that comes with it.

"Please," Villain speaks again, causing Hero to flinch at their selfishness as they are dragged out of their mind. How dare they be scared for their own well-being when Villain is... "Please," Villain whispers, the pleading tone cutting through Hero's chest.

"Villain, I-" They cut off, springing to their feet in a rush of anxiety. "Okay, if you want to do it, I can, um... try to unearth those things and undo some of the damage, but.."

"But what?" Villain asks, getting up as well. They are acting equal parts excited and reckless, and they know it.

"Some things might be too much," Hero starts, pacing through the bedroom in broad strides. "It might not work, or go wrong, or..."

Villain reaches out, stopping their panicked race from the door to the window and back, "I don't care."

They try to reassure Hero with a slight curve of their lips. But that only makes Hero explode. "I do! I don't want to cause more damage than there already is!"

It's a fair concern, Villain admits to themself. But they are far past the point of no return. "Hero, I was brainwashed, but it failed. The things done to my head are much worse than you taking a peak or even a walk."

"It's not- Christ, you don't understand!" Hero exclaims in utter frustration. They are scared, Villain understands. With a soft exhale, they place a hand on Hero's forearm, drawing them closer.

"You've seen what the nightmares are like," Villain's voice is low and pained; their fingers cold against Hero's skin. "That's every day for me. Every damn day. For six years now. I can't take it anymore, so if there's a way for you to fix it, I'll take the risk."

"I could damage you permanently," Hero protests, but it's weak. They know the hell that Villain lives in - they've seen it firsthand.

"I don't care," Villain shrugs with annoying nonchalance. "I'd rather lose my mind than keep going through this."

"Fine," Hero growls, sure that they will come to regret this decision. "Alright, fine."

As soon as they agree, Villain's demeanour changes. "What do you want me to do?"

"Lie down," Hero mutters, solemn. They wait for them to get onto the bed before sitting by their side and cradling their face with both hands.

"I want you to look into my eyes and think of the last thing you remember before the, um... experiment on you," they instruct, the internal battle still raging within them. But there is no way back now. Not after they gave Villain hope.

"Okay," Villain nods, meeting Hero's gaze with their tormented one.

"I'll get you through this," Hero continues to hold their head, and, as tender as they can, they delve into Villain's mind, only this time it's more intentional and slow. Layer by layer, they go deeper, diving into Villain's mind with gentle determination. They live through every day Villain spent in the dungeons, watching the light bulb spin around, circling them until they are reduced into hypnosis. Then come the sedatives, the withdrawal delirium, electricity, waterboarding, the light bulb again, sedatives, water...

Villain blacks out by the time Hero reaches the end of their torment - the day they escaped from the ground floor of the ministry six years ago, with a broken mind and unabashed rage against everything that place represented. Hero falls against the mattress, their entire being pierced by a phantom ache. They bury their face into the pillow, muffling the shuddering sobs ripping out from their throat.

Villain knows something is off the moment they gain some sort of awareness in the morning. They aren't entirely awake yet, but they can tell. They can feel it. Something feels off. Or better yet, it feels right. Right, and light, and clear... Gods, their head feels clear. Their blood stills at the thought, eyes flying open like they've been burnt. They glance around in agitated disbelief, only to freeze again, this time from the sight of Hero by their side. On their bed, curled into a ball. In any other situation, Villain would raise a brow and possibly tease Hero for the fetal position, but not today. They shift, leaning over their nemesis and cupping Hero's cheek. There are wet patches on their pillow - from crying themselves to sleep, Villain deduces, letting out a shaky exhale before pulling the covers up. They tuck Hero in, then lower themself back onto the bed, allowing their fingers to gently trace Hero's features.

They know their mind is not fully dealt with. They know there will be lingering nightmares for both them and Hero. They know it's far from over. But they also know that they won't be going through it alone. Not anymore.

Part 1

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444 @m4iloblu3 @silky-worm @doctorsawyer @philosophershroomie

Special tags: @m4iloblu3 @silky-worm @doctorsawyer @philosophershroomie

[puddleslimewrites]

Physics Lesson (#2)

Part 1

Villain sat down across from Hero. As per usual, they picked up a random sheet among the scattered papers on Hero's desk and began looking it over. "This is...new."

They knew they'd been gone for a few weeks but these formulas were entirely different.

"New professor," Hero sighed. "New semester. New everything." They looked more tired than usual. Villain almost pitied them. With a silent hum, Villain set to work with them again.

About half an hour in, they leaned back with a groan.

Hero shot them a glare. "No. You don't get to complain. You don't have to do this, but you're doing it anyway," Hero growled.

Villain sat up, hands help up and open in a show of peace. "Alright, cranky aren't we?" But Hero was already looking at their homework problems and muttering to themself again.

"The electric field- no, the electric flux...ugh." Hero's forehead hit the desk with a low thunk.

Villain leaned back in their chair, looking smug. "Sounds like break time."

Hero reluctantly picked their head back up. "Can't. The quiz is tomorrow. I have to at least get through some of this."

Villain hummed, frowning. They rocked in their chair, balancing on the back legs. "Want me to kill them?"

Hero's eyes shot up quickly. "What? No!"

"Just give me the name." Villains started looking through Hero's notebook. "Ah, Professor Erwi-"

The book was snatched out of their hands. No matter. They had what they needed, anyway. Their chair slammed down, a loud thump on the library carpet.

"Villain. Sit. Down."

Villain actually paused - not because of the command but because of Hero's tone.

They smirked, truly amused. "My, my. I didn't know you could sound so vicious," they crooned. They took a seat in the chair next to Hero instead of returning to the one across from them.

Hero glared at them with bloodshot eyes, then sighed, shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

Another hour passed in relative silence. Hero squinted at the back of the worksheet they were on. "Current? When...when did we get to current?" They'd been so focused they didn't even realize the topic changed.

Villain held the notebook up with both hands and tilted their head sideways as if to make better sense of the scribbled notes. Maybe they should help their nemisis with penmanship instead of math. Giving up, they set the notebook aside and snatched the sheet Hero was currently working on. "Resistance is measured in oums, not amps," they corrected. "Otherwise, this looks good."

"Don't say that like you're my tutor," Hero grumbled. They ignored the fact that the villain might as well be at this point. "...But thanks."

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3483

“I think I’m losing myself. All my hobbies are gone, and so is the day job. I haven’t seen my friends in months, my family in longer. Being a hero, the hero, is so all-encompassing. All-consuming. It’s eating everything about me and I don’t know how to make it stop. If this goes on much longer, I’m worried I’m going to forget my real name.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (Xiii)

Family Time

Continued from // Masterpost

*~*~*~*~*

Kit’s palms were sweating as he walked into the hospital, stopping at the reception desk and smiling at the receptionist, Heather. She smiled with her painted red lips when she saw Kit. It shouldn’t have made him nauseous, Heather always had red lipstick on and it suited her. She was very pretty with her blonde hair and big blue eyes and red lips, but it just reminded him now of Ambrose.

“Hey Kit, you goin’ up to your old man?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, doll. Go right ahead.”

Kit thanked her and walked on to the stairs. He needed the stairs to give him the time to gather his thoughts. What was he going to say? How was he going talk to him after knowing exactly what Ambrose was like? When he knew exactly what Omen was capable of… and Kit was getting off light.

His mind was still somewhat in tact. How was he supposed to look at him, the man that took Kit into his house and raised him, and know that he had been spared?

The guilt bloomed like tar in his gut; pitch black, oozing and heavy. Fuck, his hands were shaking. What if his powers flared up when he was in there? He couldn’t control his red lightning that Ambrose kept bringing out in him… and it only happened when he was… well, angry, but —

Fuck.

Kit paused on the final step to Mentor’s floor. How much of himself would he see in Mentor now? How much suffering? Would he recognise the commands that Ambrose plagued his mind with?

It didn’t matter.

That was the thought that forced him up the final step and down the hallway to the psych ward. It didn’t matter what he thought or what he would see or face, because it was Mentor. If the roles were reversed, Kit knows that Mentor would be in here to see him— every single day, not every week.

The power-proofed psych ward was on the basement floor so if patients wanted to jump out of windows they could do it with minimal damage to themselves or others.

Kit hated walking up to the doors and pressing the button to be buzzed in. Hated how he knew that even if somehow Mentor got better miraculously, he wouldn’t be able to get out himself and come home.

Kit hadn’t been to Mentor’s house since the docks either, he should probably pay it a visit, put on the heat. The thoughts of the empty house getting damp and lonely… well, Kit just knew that mentor wouldn’t want that.

The door buzzed and Kit pushed it open. He walked down the hall, took a right at the nurses station and then stopped at the last door on the left. It was opened, so was his window. Mentor sat in his armchair staring at the birds as they sang a happy tune.

Kit paused at the door, just watching Mentor as he hummed softly back to the birds. He looked peaceful, wearing his favourite maroon sweater that Kit had gotten him one Christmas and his blue and red chequered pyjama bottoms.

Kit swallowed and stepped into the room, but where before Mentor would have noticed him lingering in the doorway, he didn’t even turn his head as Kit walked into the room and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Mentor,” said Kit softly. The corner of Mentor’s lips quipped up into a small smile at Kit’s voice, and Kit wanted to cry. He caught him on one of his rare good days. “How are you doing?”

“The birds are singing, Kit,” Mentor replied, his gaze dreamy. “The sun is shining. You’re here. I’m somewhat lucid.”

He turned his head to Kit, his warm blue eyes smiling. “I think I’m doing pretty great.”

Kit couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t a conscious thought, but he had crossed the short distance between the bed and Mentor’s chair to throw his arms around his— his family. He wanted so badly to tell him everything that had happened. Why he hasn’t visited in the last three months. Explain everything, tell him he knew what Mentor was going through because he was going through it too.

He settled for Mentor’s arms wrapping around him in their strong warm embrace, not at all cold like Ambrose.

“Hey kiddo, it’s okay.”

“I just…” the words choked on the way out, so Kit just squeezed Mentor tighter. “I miss you so much.”

“It’s alright. You’re here now, it’s all that matters isn’t it? Right now. We don’t have long before some nurse will give out to me for having visitors eh?” Kit laughed despite himself and pulled away from Mentor, nodding. Mentor didn’t let Kit’s arm go, he gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. “So we need to catch up on everything important, right?”

Kit nodded, his heart overwhelmed with joy. “Yeah.”

“Go on, sit down,” said Mentor, gesturing to the bed and Kit obeyed.

Mentor leaned forward and clasped his hands together, dropping them between his knees and fixing his features into a more sombre expression. Kit had the sudden feeling that Mentor somehow knew about Ambrose and his whole tragic ordeal, but then something glimmered in his eyes — an old familiar mischief that Superhero said Kit inherited from Mentor.

“Who’s top of the premier league? What have I missed? What about the rugby, and your car guys— what’re they called?”

“Formula one?” Kit asked with a startled laugh. He forgot he could be happy, but Kit wasn’t thinking about anything other than how good he felt.

“Yeah! Formula one, Ferrari and all them. I need all the updates because they only have the shit channels in here, and none of them are sports.”

Kit laughed again before he descended into a recap of all the sports developments he could think of recently. Well, almost recently if he discounted the last three month gap in his knowledge.

From sports they went onto movies, from movies they talked about the house and Kit’s apartment and then Mentor asked: “and how about work? Are you still in the Hero business?”

Kit could feel his smile fade at the question. That was the question of the hour was the it? Was he still a Hero? Could he even be considered one anymore?

He ignored the quiet voice in his head that asked: did he even want to be one anymore?

Instead Kit skirted around the issue. He told Mentor that Superhero had taken over as the new Superhero, that Kit worked closely with him. “Oh yeah. I always liked Superhero. He’s a nice guy, good moral compass.”

Kit told him that they were still hunting down Omen and Mentor’s eyes narrowed into points as sharp as daggers. “No.”

Kit blinked. “What?”

“No,” Mentor repeated. He got out of his chair and he walked towards Kit, grabbing both of Kit’s hands and squeezing them before kneeling in front of Kit. Kit stared down, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Kit promise me! Promise me you won’t go near that man.”

“Mento—”

“Kit!” Mentor cut in, his voice urgent, his eyes pleading with all his soul. “Promise me! You’ll stay miles away from him. He is only pain. I spent twenty years in the Hero business and I had never met a monster before him, Kit. You promise me!”

“I—”

“Promise me!”

“I promise,” Kit whispered. He didn’t mean for it to come out so quietly, but the urgency that Mentor was speaking with— Kit couldn’t say no to him. Not when he was like this. Tension released from Mentor’s shoulders as he let out a sigh, squeezing Kit’s hands again before letting them go and getting to his feet.

He put a hand in Kit’s hair and Kit froze, remembering cold fingers yanking his head up — but no! This was Mentor, not Ambrose. Mentor ruffled his hair affectionately in the same way he used to when he first met Kit and then withdrew his hand.

“You’re a good kid, Kit.”

Kit scoffed as he got to his feet. “Kid? Reckon I could still take you old man.”

Mentor’s eyes lit up with that glimmering mischief that Kit missed so much. “Oh yeah? Think you’re a tough guy now?”

“Tough enough to knock you on your arse.”

Mentor hummed like a monk, bringing his hands together in a pray before moving into a kung-fu pose, palm stretched out in front of him raised towards the ceiling. “You have much yet to learn, young Padawan.”

When Mentor flexed his fingers for Kit to give him his best shot, Kit smiled softly and walked towards him, finally wrapping his arms around Mentor instead. Mentor stiffened initially then relaxed and enveloped Kit in his warmth. “Hey Kid. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair. Mentor wasn’t old enough to be retired, he was only… what? Late thirties? Early forties? He shouldn’t be here in this fucking psych ward, he should be at home with Kit. He should still be the number one hero. He should… he should have his own mind back. If it wasn’t for Ambrose, Mentor could still have his life!

“Hey… hey! Hey!” Mentor started shouting and Kit let go of him, stepping away. Mentor’s face contorted into fear and anger and disgust as he backed up to the wall, gasping. “Hey! What?! What did you do to me?”

Kit’s eyebrows knitted down into pained expression. “Mentor I—”

That was all Kit got out before Mentor was on him. Mentor grabbed Kit by his t-shirt and slammed him back against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs with a harsh hiss. “Mentor!”

Mentor’s fists curled in tight to Kit’s shirt, knuckles digging into Kit’s collarbone painfully. “What did you do to me! Huh! Make it stop! Make them stop!”

Mentor yanked Kit forward and shoved him back harder against the wall. Kit stared with wide eyes, frozen in shock. Mentor… he had never seen Mentor this bad before, where he didn’t even recognise him.

The screaming had alerted some nurses that came running into the room, yelling Mentor’s name.

“You ruined me!” Mentor wailed as nurses put their arms on him and tried to get him off Kit. “You ruined me! You destroyed me!”

“I—” Kit began but cut himself off, no words ready to flow from his lips in his defence.

“Mentor we need you to calm down and let go of Kit,” one of the nurses said.

Mentor shook his head, angry tears bubbling up on the side of his eyes. “You have some nerve showing up here, Omen. I would recognise you anywhere.”

“What?” Kit asked, breathless. His voice coming out so broken, choked. The nurses grabbed Mentor’s wrists and pried him off of Kit.

“Kit, you have to go. I’m sorry.”

“I—”

“Kit, I know it’s very distressing but please.”

He didn’t even look for the nurse who asked him to go. He just left in a stupor.

“Monster! Monster! You’re letting him go! I’LL FIND YOU ONE DAY, OMEN!” Mentor screamed, his voice echoing down the hall all the way to Kit’s ears. Kit flinched at the horrid sound of it, too broken and crazed and angry. “MONSTER! MONSTER! YOU’RE LETTING HIM GO!”

Kit flinched as a hand hit his shoulder. “Oh sorry, Kit.”

Kit turned to face a nurse who had a sad, pitying smile on her face. He was a little numb to it, he didn’t even smile back. “I just want to say he does that with us all,” he said kindly. “He calls us all Omen, and I know it must be shocking to hear it.”

Kit cleared the lump in his throat. “How… uh, how is he?”

“His lucid moments are getting longer, stronger, he remembers more.”

“And these moments?”

The pity in the nurse’s eyes said it all. “Longer, stronger, he’s… well, you saw him.”

Kit nodded because he didn’t trust his voice to speak. He gestured to the door, and cleared his throat and the Nurse nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let you go. Just… just don’t ruminate on it, Kit. That’s not him, that’s not the Mentor you know.”

Yeah, Kit thought, and even his thoughts sounded heartbroken to his ears. I know.

That was the real cruelty of what Ambrose did to Mentor. He took away everything that was Mentor, that made him the number one Hero, a father figure, an older brother. Omen sucked all his goodness out and replaced it with his own sick poison to try and diminish Mentor to nothing but a raving lunatic that had to be locked in a psych ward for his own safety.

When he walked out into the fresh air, Kit threw up in the nearest bin because: that could have been him. Ambrose could any day decide that he’s bored of Kit and then melt his mind like he did to Mentor, he could do it with a simple thought. Destroy him…

No, the nurse was right. Mentor isn’t gone. He isn’t destroyed, Ambrose missed that part even though it’s probably what he wanted. The lucid Mentor Kit hugged and laughed with and grew up with, that was Mentor. Ambrose didn’t destroy Mentor, and he wouldn’t destroy Kit either.

Kit ditched the idea of going back to his shitty apartment where Ambrose was no doubt waiting for him, or possibly waiting for him which was worse.

Kit’s mind went back to the rules and he smirked.

You can’t move apartment.

Ambrose never said anything about moving back home. Technically, Kit wasn’t even moving. He had some clothes back home, he could just relax there for a while. Take a load off. He wasn’t moving anywhere.

He stopped into the shop to grab some groceries before taking the metro back to his real home. Kit and Mentor’s home. It was a nice house, not too big or too small.

Kit remembers when he saw it for the first time, he thought it was huge and too much. The lawn was perfectly mowed, Mentor telling Kit that they would need to plant some flowers or something to cheer it up a little. The hedges around the wall surrounding it made it feel so warm and cosy.

Now the grass was overgrown, the flowers dead, the hedges needed a good chop. Kit frowned as he stared at the house, the stone walls with their big windows that they would throw open in the summer. It was so strange that Mentor wasn’t here with him.

If he was he would rock up beside Kit and pat his back, tell him: “it just needs a bit of work and a bit of love.”

With the drab Autumn weather, the house had an eerie glow to it, like it knew Mentor wasn’t coming home too. That suited him fine, maybe Kit and the house could find some comfort in each other.

He opened the heavy wooden door, the sound of the familiar lock clacking open took, what felt like, a tonne weight off of Kit’s shoulders. It smelled the same way it always did, he couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it smelled like home.

The first thing he needed to do was put on the heat cause fuck it was cold in here. He deposited the groceries on the kitchen island and his keys before waking to the utility room and pressing the heat on.

Please have some heat, please have some heat.

With a click and a whirr the heat came on and Kit silently thanked Mentor and his need to over-prepare for everything, because what if it gets cold in summer. LBetter to have it than want it.

Kit put the groceries away, almost robotically. He wasn’t hungry so he didn’t eat. He clicked the kettle on and grabbed his favourite mug, plopping in four teaspoons of coffee. Then switched the kettle off and left his mug on the countertop.

He turned, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his lower back against the counter, worrying his bottom lip.

He didn’t really want to do anything.

He didn’t remember what it was like to want something.

Well… he did, he just didn’t— he had wanted to not be in pain. He wanted to not be around Ambrose, but after that? He kind of forgot what it was like to have a life of his own. What it was like to live before Ambrose had taken him and tortured him.

He—

He rolled his eyes and let out an audible, frustrated groan. He should go to bed, or, catch up on all the sports he missed. At least then when he saw Mentor again he would be able to tell him about the most recent updates instead of months old information.

Kit walked to the living room and settled down into his favourite seat on the sofa, fighting everything in him not to glance over to Mentor’s empty seat. It’s not like ignoring the seat made him feel any better, he still had that aching, gnawing in his chest that made everything feel a little wrong. A little off.

His phone buzzed in his pocket while he was flipping mindlessly through the sports channels, none of the programs catching his interest or attention at all. Did he really used to watch TV for fun? He could always look up the results or whatever, but it wasn’t really the same. He pulled out his phone, and stared down at the lock screen.

A text from Ambrose lit up the screen. Two simple words, that filled Kit with an unreasonable amount of anger. It hadn’t even been a day yet without the bastard there to torment him. He couldn’t even go a day without gloating.

Ambrose: Miss me yet? :)

Kit turned his phone off. It was dramatic, but it made him feel a little better. As if Kit was the one in control and not the other way around. Kit sighed and threw the phone onto the couch, leaving it there as he turned on off the TV and stood.

Today was just… too much of everything and anything and maybe, just maybe, if he slept tomorrow when he woke up he’d feel a little less like a zombie. A little more human. The idea pushed him towards his bedroom, ascending the stairs with heavy feet.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper r @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast t @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour

[villainsandheroes]

Overworked Heroes

I love a good overworked hero. So tired but still trying to keep that public eye image of themselves strong.

But, I don’t mean just tired.

I mean staying up till 4 AM only to wake up at 5 to start more paperwork or commute to their day job. Or setting that alarm for 30 minutes, just in desperate need of a nap, because they didn’t sleep at all, there just isn’t the time with all of the hero work they keep getting.

Heroes who are just living off of coffee and energy drinks and yet it ceases to help. Thief hands are constantly jittering from the boosts of caffeine and yet they’re still so tired.

Heroes that can’t even go to bed, only making it as far as the couch. Better yet, falling asleep at their desk or after driving home about to get out of the car and just passing out until they’re waking up to phone notifications from the hero agency.

Heroes who desperately need sleep. And it’s not even one particular villain’s fault. If anything it’s the government and their poor treatment of heroes.

[green-mochi-blog]

Unredeemable villain who is madly in love with the hero and kind of obsesses with them + Tired hero who was neglected by the people they were supposed to save and isn't quite sure about their relationship with the villain but they are the only person who showed them any kind of love, even if it's twisted, so they are willing to accept it

Is this too specific? Is there any kind of book or story with this type of relationship? I really need to know

[random-writing-thoughts]

OMG i love each and every one of your snippets!

A continuation of 195 please?

Thank you!! Here you go!!

Thought #195.2

Previous

Villain stood there stunned. "Y... you don't care."

Hero pulled the blanket up over their head. "Not right now I don't. Talk to me in the morning. Now turn off the lights and get the hell out of here."

Villain shook their head and turned off the lights. They wandered through Hero's house and plopped down on the couch.

What do I do now? My whole plan was to wait in their room and...

Villain stood.

Grab them. Take them back to Supervillain.

Villain smirked.

"Sorry Hero. You can sleep in the car."

Villain made their way to Hero's room. Hero was snoring softly and Villain smiled.

They walked over to Hero and pulled Hero into their arms. Hero jumped, but continued snoring.

Villain grabbed a blanket from their bed draping it over Hero.

Villain made their way to their car and loaded Hero into the back seat. Hero rolled to their side and snuggled under the blanket.

Villain smiled and jumped into the front seat driving toward the base.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 5

TW: Murder mention, blood mention, pain mentions, exhaustion

"Wh-what do you want?" Hero coughed out, breathless and dizzy. Their vision blurred as they blinked tears out of their eyes as their hazy surroundings melted into an amalgamation of colours and lines.

"Money?" they questioned, struggling to meet Villain's gaze as they tried to prop themself up on their elbows, leaning weakly against the sidewalk.

The criminal laughed heartily, as though this was some sort of ridiculous joke. Which, in all honesty, it was, what with the diamond-studded watch glinting on the villain's wrist and the luxuriant coat draped carelessly across their shoulders. They were in civilian attire, but it didn't matter with only Hero around.

"Alrighhh." They let out a wheeze. "Some. . .special weapon or s-something like that?" Hero slurred, the words falling from their lips at a frustrating speed, like they were trying to speak through molasses, their aching body tormented with involuntary shivers.

Villain crossed their arms and mock-tutted, sauntering a little closer to the hero. "In that area, I have all that I need, want and more. Try again, sweetness."

Hero felt their throat burn with the bile rising in it. "I c-can't give you. . ." they paused, trying to catch their breath, "this, but are you doing this for r-revenge. . .revenge on Superhero? Is that what will make you stop?" They struggled to meet the criminal's gaze, the throbbing in their head making it almost impossible to think straight.

"As entertaining as it would be to watch that insipid little do-gooder fall, if I wanted vengeance, they would be lying face-down in a ditch now, throat slit, left to wither away into the nothing that they truly are," Villain shrugged casually, now shifting their focus onto their neatly filed-down nails, a stark contrast to Hero's chipped and dirty ones.

"Then what?" the crime-fighter choked out, voice breaking, grass green eyes wide with desperation, the villain's elusive behaviour and their offhand attitude eating away at their sanity more than the sharp pains all over their body were, "What could you possibly want, Villain?"

The speed at which they answered them was beyond the hero, so much so, that it drew a loud gasp out of them. "You," they said, voice laden with conviction.

Notes: Hero is NOT rich here. They were going to get the money from the agency. They're either middle-class or somewhat poor. You choose. You can also change Hero's eye colour of you want.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[depressed-werewolf]

“Can we skip the monologue today? Your voice is grating.”

Villain gasped and put their hand over their heart, as if they were hurt. “How can you be so rude yet call yourself a hero? I thought you liked my monologues!”

Hero rolled their eyes. “I was literally tied to a chair last time what the fuck was I supposed to do?”

[iamnotfishh]

Hi!! I don’t know if you do asks, but if you do, could you please do this one?

https://just-a-few-prompts.tumblr.com/post/639624968096841728

Id really appreciate it!! :)

I apologize for the MASSIVE delay in replying, I hope you like it. :D

Prompt

————

The many nights in preparation of telling their parents that they were a part-time hero did not ready them for the possibility that Villain would confront their mom in this matter.

Tapping their foot, Villain waited after ringing the doorbell. Hero prayed that their mom wasn’t home. She did not like the idea that there were kids sacrificing themselves to ensure the city’s safety. But it didn’t stop Hero from approaching the Hero Association.

Money was tight. And they were reckless.

The door opened revealing Hero’s dad, raising an eyebrow at the two of them until he saw the maskless crime-stopper. “Babe, you’ve got to see this!” He shouted behind his back, earning a slight chuckle from Villain and a wide-eyed expression from the other.

They were done for.

After a short explanation from Villain, Hero’s parents dragged Hero in the apartment before allowing the Villain to make themselves at home.

After patching the Hero up and ordering Hero’s younger sibling to not eavesdrop, the family sat down at the dinner table. The father was the first to speak, “Did my child kick a—”

“Honey.”

She cleared her throat. “I apologize for his informality. I have a lot of questions but one thing is for certain,” She glanced at Hero, “You are no longer working at the Hero Association. Do you hear me?”

“But I—” They stopped themself. How many nights had Hero spent, fighting crime when their mother wasn’t aware of it?

How many times have they returned home, covered in injuries when they could’ve been catching up with their friends. Or finishing that art project. Hero averted their gaze in guilt. “Yes ma’am…”

Unwrapping a coffee candy, the Villain spoke, “We’ve got a lot to go over.”

Many questions, one-thousand lectures, and a few jokes later, and the Hero found themselves staring at their ceiling in disbelief. They checked the window to see if the Villain had left before their dog started licking them. They ruffled his fur in return.

“Missing me already?”

The crime-stopper rolled their eyes before suddenly turning toward the criminal. “Why did you… not kill me right then and there?”

The only sound that came from the villain was a huff. “It wasn’t until I got a close look of your face did I realize how young you truly were. Personal feelings got the better of me.”

The hero narrowed their eyes but took the answer. “Thanks.”

Due to Villain, they got the final art project finished, feed the dog, and could sleep peacefully without worrying about a bajillion things, excluding the geometry test. “Will you continue being a villain?”

The other did not answer. There it was. That odd, cold expression.

“If you do, well… I might come back for you in the future.” Hero grinned at this, “And I’ll give you a hugattack!”

“A what?”

The hero didn’t answer as their parents lead Villain to the exit, thanking them for the conversation.

Hero waved the villain goodbye, hoping they’d see Villain when the time was right but little did Hero knew,

They would never see them again.

[sunnynwanda]

Trouble of Mind: Part 1

Part 2

It's been a week. A week since Hero did something unacceptable. It wasn't exactly forbidden, more like a rule they imposed on themselves for ethical reasons. No matter how much they needed information reading Villain's mind was always out of the question.

They did it a week ago. Amidst the battle, for no particular reason. A thought had flickered behind Villain's gaze only to disappear in the dark pools. And Hero followed. Unconscious at first, an impulse that drew them in. That was the biggest mistake they had ever made. And it backfired.

Villain had no idea why they jerked away so quickly and accepted defeat just so they could escape. The contents of Villain's psyche traumatised them. The things that Hero saw inside their consciousness were disturbing, but what they found deep in Villain's unconscious mind sent reverberating waves through their body. Hero hasn't been able to sleep ever since - countless nightmares served as their only companions for seven long and lonely nights.

Hero sighs, brushing their hair back from their forehead. The sleepless nights were taking their toll on them. Dark bags had settled under their eyes, heavy with the knowledge of the secrets held in Villain's mind.

They hadn't attended to any of the challenges presented by their enemy in the week that ensued. It was not because of the lack of proper rest but rather rooted in their inability to face them after discovering things meant to be hidden. They hadn't left their house at all for the risk of running into someone they knew. Hence why the knock on their door didn't surprise them. They remained quiet for a long moment, waiting for the person to leave, and when the knocking seized, exhaled in relief and returned to their couch for another attempt of rest to turn into torment.

Except it did not. Hero lets out a content sighs, turning so that they are now lying on their back. They yawn, stretching to snap their muscles in place. It feels like a heavy burden has been lifted off of their shoulders. It's only when they try to open their eyes, that they realise something is off.

"What the f..." A hand on their chest prevents them from sitting up, then presses them back down. What the hell?

"Shh, it's just a compress," a familiar voice fills their ears, only increasing the panic. "Don't freak out."

"Villain?" Their throat goes dry. They reach for the cloth that's covering their eyes and forehead. Villain is seated by their bed with a glass of water ready.

"Drink this," Hero shakes their head, propping themselves up against the headboard. With a sigh, Villain takes a sip. "See? It's not poisoned. Just drink it, it'll help."

"What are you doing here?" And what am I doing here? They could bet they were on the couch a few minutes ago. How did Villain get into their apartment and move them without them waking up?

"Helping you deal with the consequences of your own actions," despite the sarcastic tone - Villain seems genuine in their concern. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Pardon?" They jolt, almost jumping in place. No one knew Hero had that ability. Villain couldn't possibly know. Right?

"You shouldn't have read my mind, babe." Hero's eyes widen in shock. Villain shrugs nonchalantly, taking the cloth from their hand. "My past is too much to handle even for myself."

"How did you..?" A million questions are circling in Hero's head, yet they cannot form a single full sentence.

"Gosh, for a mind reader, you are quite dense," Villain shakes their head, then presses a palm against Hero's burning forehead. Their fingers are gentle and cold, Hero almost leans into their touch. "Did you think I wouldn't feel you in my head?"

"I-I'm sorry," their heartbeat is accelerating, which doesn't help the fever, so they take a deep breath, attempting to steady themselves. "I really am. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I know." Villain dips the compress into a bowl of ice water, then brushes Hero's hair back, wiping their forehead and temples. Hero lets out a content sigh, allowing their eyes to fall shut. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What for?" They can feel the cloth against the bridge of their nose, then right behind their right ear.

"Help, obviously," Villain tilts their head for better access. "When was the last time you slept?"

"You know the answer to that," is all they can muster, their body relaxed under gentle touches. Villain nods, ignoring the fact that Hero's eyes are closed.

"Put a cold compress on your forehead and ice cubes on your pulse points - that helps." They stop their manipulations, and Hero has to stop themselves from huffing in complaint. Instead, they open their eyes to look at Villain. "I use essential oils and sleep in complete darkness when it gets bad."

"Do you have them often?" Hero's voice is barely above a whisper, but Villain hears.

They nod with a heavy sigh and focus their gaze on Hero's ear, which is crimson red. They wonder if it's a reaction to the cold or their touch. "That's what failed brainwashing does to you, babe."

Hero freezes for a second. When they finally speak, their voice is coarse. "I'm sorry."

Villain offers them a quiet smile before getting up. "Come find me if you still can't rest," they say over their shoulder and vanish before Hero has a chance to thank them.

Hero knows they've made a mistake. A mistake that makes it hard to breathe and almost impossible to sleep. One that led them into the dreams and nightmares of their nemesis. One that gave them a chance to repair the damage they've unearthed and - potentially - heal Villain's troubled mind.

They know they've made a mistake, so when the sun begins to set on the horizon, they knock on Villain's door.

Part 2

Masterlist

[puddleslimewrites]

Overworked (Prompt #11)

"Helloooo!"

Hero blinked slowly, only just registering the blur of a hand waving in front of their face.

Villain frowned. "What's up with you?" they demanded. "First you don't show up to our fight, then you ignore me and walk right past me when I show up at your door. You didn't even have the decency to leave a coded message!"

Hero stared blankly at their nemesis. "...Sorry?" They really must be out of it if they didn't notice all that.

The villain pressed forward. Hero didn't seem to notice how close they were. "Are you sick? Hurt?"

It took a moment for Hero to register the questions and then another to realize that they were supposed to answer. "Just...tired."

Villain finally leaned out of their space, eyes narrowed. "Well that won't do. I need you at your best if I'm going to beat you!"

Hero nodded absently, already zoning of the conversation.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3394

"But you're the greatest hero the world has ever seen! You can't just- just stop!"

The hero sighed, exhausted in a way their unwrinkled face could never show. "I fight the villain. I beat the villain. I save the city, sometimes the planet. People cheer. And then a new villain rises up, and another, and another, every year for hundreds of years. Some of them were pure evil, others just misguided kids. I took them all down, and nothing really changed. There are always more villains."

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Late

Another impulsive post, not sure what’s up with me today.

Using Character tags A, B, and C hope that’s not annoying. 

There is some swearing in this. 

Premise: Character A is late yet again but this time they didn’t tell B and C, in fact they haven’t heard anything from A all day. This is concerning. 

~

Character B and C waited for an hour before something felt wrong. Character A had been late many times, by a substantial amount, but usually they at least message if it’s going to reach the hour mark. The meeting had already started, since A wasn’t a council member, the others didn’t particular care despite A being the only one who had any knowledge on the matter. That would have to be an argument the group had with the council later, right now, B and C needed to figure out what possibly could be making them late today.

“It better be some sort of demon attack,” B said.

“Don’t say that,” C snapped.

“I just mean this meeting was really important. This is just going to give Council Member Douchebag another reason to petition to have A under Council control.”

“We’ll deal with Douchebag,” C said. “Reasonable Council Member wouldn’t let that happen.”

The pair walked into A’s apartment building. It was a decent place, and they knew from conversation that A’s place was fairly big, however, as they rode the elevator up both B and C realised neither of them had ever been inside A’s apartment before.

“I wonder what it’s like,” B said.

C shrugged, “does it really matter?”

“No, but I’m just trying to imagine what kind of house a magical warrior would keep.”

“They’re still a person too.”

B knew that, but that wasn’t the point. B watched C’s hands fidget, their body tensed and coiled with anxiety.

“They’ll be fine,” B said placing a hand on their arm. “Even if it is an attack A can handle themself. Though considering the building is still intact I doubt it is.”

C nodded but weren’t calmed.

The elevator ride was painfully slow, and C felt like they were going to explode as they watched the numbers tick by. Finally, it reached the top floor and C released a breath, squeezing through the doors as the started opening.

“C, everything is going to be fine,” B said walking out once the doors were actually open.

“You don’t know that” C said. “They always tell us when they’re going to be late.”

C walked to the left, head bouncing back and forth, the numbers blurring as they went.

“C,” B said watching them.

“I know A is strong and independent or whatever but even the most self-sufficient people need looking after, sometimes more so. They are usually the ones who don’t ask for help.”

“I know that, but C-”

C whipped around, ready to yell something but a whole knew fury took over them as they saw B standing, still in front of the elevator, their arms crossed like they didn’t even care.

“What the hell are you doing?” They snapped. B opened their mouth, but C kept going. “If you aren’t going to help then why are you even here?”

“Well, if you let me get a word in, I would have told you by now that you’re going in the wrong direction.”

C’s brows knit together. “What?” They looked to the door beside them.

“We want 809,” B said, pointing to apartment 815, “you’re going up in numbers.”

C stared at the number, ran a hand through their hair.

“I am worried too,” B said gently walking forward, “but I am keeping a calm face. A is strong, and also extremely bad at time management,” they stopped in front of C and placed their hands on their arms. “Worst case scenario they got into a fight they shouldn’t have. Either way we are about to find them and help them, everything will be ok.”

C sucked in a long, slow breath, holding it.

B began counting, 1 to 5. C released the breath and Character B pulled them into a hug. They stood there for a moment, C resting their head on B’s chest as they took in another breath.  B waited for them to step back first before letting go.

“Good?” B looked down at them.

C nodded.

“Ok, let’s go this way then.” B kept an arm around C’s shoulders, and they watched the numbers until they went down, until they found door 809.

C didn’t hesitate before taking out their emergency key and unlocking the door. The first thing that became apparent was the sound of running water, a fair amount of it.

They pushed the door open.

The apartment itself was nice, shining marble themed tiles, a gorgeous looking kitchen with dark bench tops and cupboards to contrast the white. However, everything that wasn’t built into the place was incredibly minimalistic. The lounge room housed a small couch, a stained coffee table and a tv that sat on a cabinet that looked like it would collapse if so much as a feather rested on it. There was no dining table or chairs, and the kitchen bench was completely clear of things except for an opened box. The box was surrounded by varying types of painkillers, everything from the mundane paracetamol and ibuprofen to the more magical herbs and small bottles of homemade liquids, all of which were empty.

As they looked around the room they spotted the source of the rushing sound, a large puddling of water, flowing out into the hallway.

“That can’t be good,” B said.

They both rushed to the door, the bathroom was completely flooded, water spilling out of the bath as more rushed in from the faucet. It was cold against their skin already soaking into their shoes, feet squelching in their socks when they moved.

“A,” C breathed.

A was in the bathtub, unconscious, head and arm slumped over the side, keeping them from drowning.

“A,” C said louder, shaking their burning skin. Their hand recoiled, they moved it to A’s forehead. “They’re burning up,” C said looking up as B approached.

“We need to get them out of this,” B said. They turned off the tap, silence settling as the water stopped and B grabbed the arm that was still in the tub. C grabbed the other.

“On three,” B said, “One, two, three.”

They heaved A out of the tub, water weighing them down, but even then, they were surprisingly light. They both looped an arm each around their neck, carrying A out into the main room, laying them down on the dry floor.

A’s eyes fluttered open, a quiet groan slipping through their lips as their body began to twitch.

B crouched down beside them. “A? Can you hear me?”  They squeezed A’s shoulder, and they let out another groan.

“B?” Their eyes were just barely able to open.

“Are you ok? Can you explain to us what’s happening?”

A moved their arm, their limb clumsily landing on the floor across their body as they attempted to roll on their side.

“M’fine,” A said.

“You are very clearly not fine,” C said, holding a hand out as A began trying to sit up.

Their arm gave out and both C and B caught them, helping them up the rest of the way.

“It’s normal.”

B and C looked to each other, expressions mirrored, something between shock and confusion.

“What do you mean this is normal?” Be asked. “A. you’re burning up and we just found you unconscious in the bathtub.”

“I was trying to stop the fever before it got worse,” A said, their words running into each other. “It usually helps.”

“And the mountain of painkillers?” B said gesturing to the bench.

A didn’t respond. They leant forward, releasing themself from B and C’s support lifting their arms to their shirt.

“What are you doing?” C asked. “Talk to us, we can help.”

“You guys need to stop worrying so much.” A groaned, finally getting a grip on the top of their shirt and pulling it over their head. They got about halfway before whatever energy they had managed to muster died.

“Fuck,” they breathed.

“Dude just let us help,” B said. They grabbed the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, A’s wet fringe flopping over their eyes.

“I’ll go get some dry clothes,” C said, looking to A, “where is your room?”

A sighed, gestured to the door at the end of the hallway. “Just get anything, the ones on the floor are clean.”

C nodded and left. A looked to B, “help me up please.” They held out their arm.

Together they stood, A taking a moment to breath as the world swayed before they moved over to the couch. A sat on the arm of the couch and B helped them remove their soaked pants as C returned.

“So, seriously, what is happening here?” B asked. “Are you sick?”

A took the shirt handed to them and manoeuvred their head through.

“No… maybe this normal.”

“Yeah, you said that already. What does that mean?” B asked.

A sighed again, getting an arm through.

“My magic.” They grimaced as they got their second arm through, letting out another soothing breath. “This is what happens.”

They pulled the shirt all the way down and sagged, that feat alone draining.

“This is what happens when you use your magic?” C asked.

“It’s not always this bad. But,” they leant to the side, against the couch, “it builds up.”

“You’ve been dealing with this the whole time, and you never told us?” B said.

A looked to them. “I’ve dealt with this my whole life, it’s nothing new.”

“Every time you use your magic?” C asked again.

“C, this isn’t your fault,” A panted, “This is the price of having this. Human bodies are not made to contain this much magic. I shouldn’t have survived birth.”

“Have you told douchebag council member this?”

“You think he’d care?”

No one said anything, everyone knew. A closed their eyes, body raging against them.

“How can we help?” C asked.

“You can’t,” A said.

“I can make you some food, make you some more potions,” C tried.

“I won’t keep anything down and if I take any more potions, we will have a new problem. I just need rest.” They leant back and tried easing themself down onto the couch but instead just fell back. “Ow. I am assuming I missed the meeting.”

“Yes,” B said moving to A’s side, helping them move onto the couch properly. “Reasonable council member managed to keep things somewhat sane, but douchebag member was revelling in all the new excuses to call you incompetent.”

“He can go fuck himself,” A groaned, getting into position.

A curled into a ball on the couch, eyes closed arms crossed around them. Their face was pale and pained, both B and C watched the, their ragged breath, the moisture on their forehead that is no longer just water.

“Are sure there is nothing we can do to help?” B asked.

A opened their eyes a little, exhaustion taking over.

“Maybe… just be here.”

“We can do that,” C said. “You get some rest now.”

“Mmm,” A was already drifting off.

[villainsandheroes]

Just Fighting Things

Hero’s hand deflected the shot of magic, trying to send one back just as quickly. Hands beginning to shake as they felt their magic suddenly draining.

Nonono.

Villain laughed a bit. Easily dodging with a sidestep before moving forward quickly. Hero’s hand flew out and tried blasting magic at them, but there magic failed, sparking and barely making it a few feet.

“Someone getting tired?” Villain cooed.

“Sh-shut up.” Hero back up quickly. Tripping on a tree trunk. Falling backwards and shaking.

Villain grinned before pouncing.